Crossroad Fate
by WhenFangirlsAttack00
Summary: When WooBin finds himself in a car crash, he never thought that he'd find himself in a situation with the girl that was involved. (Summary will be updated later) WooBin x OC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Boys Over Flowers

~~Chapter 1~~

"Aish!" Song WooBin's right hand gripped the slick steering wheel with white knuckles, his left resting in his lap. The dimly lit roads seemed eerily empty for a late Saturday night, but for that he was grateful.

He had been lying at home, having just gotten back from a session of clubbing with Yi Jung, and his head was throbbing with each attempted thought. And just as he felt himself about to slip under into appreciative sleep, his phone went off and after glancing at the caller ID he reluctantly answered. A case that his men had been working on for months had finally sustained a solid lead; and that was the only reason he was out on the road attempting to shake the foggy film of lingering liquor and tune out the ringing in his ears.

He took a sharp turn off the next exit and cruised on down the steady pavement. His head was numb and if there were any cars on the road he would almost certainly be the cause of an accident. But still he pressed his foot down harder on the peddle lurching the car even faster forward. It wasn't until he reached his destination that he laid on the breaks and thanked god that his alcohol induced brain remembered his seatbelt protecting him from the shadowed dashboard.

The shabby rundown building looked as though it might cave in at any moment. Its chipped black paint and warped roof alone put it on grounds for condemnation, but the windows were lit despite their grim coating and the music booming out should've been enough to shake the foundation down. It was a typical "gang bar" as WooBin had termed it, and it was the most common location for an underground business.

Steadying himself out of the car, he closed his eyes desperately trying to straighten out his swaying world of black shadows he saw out of his sunglasses. Once he was as firm on his feet as he could get, he didn't waste time. He focused on the shifting crunch of gravel under his boots to distract from the lightheaded aftereffects of his night out and he walked straight through the entrance while slipping on his leather gloves, slamming the door behind him.

He was greeted with a wave of cigarette smoke, sweat, and strong booze that sent his stomach into a performance of somersaults that he quickly gained control over. He had been told that he already had undercover men on site and that provided at least a hint of security while he let his overconfidence and irrational actions take over.

On a normal night on the job, not that there ever were any normal nights, he would calmly saunter in and order a drink. He might even play a round of pool with the local thugs. But this wasn't a normal night because he was drunk and pissed off. Drunk due to his much regretted escaped with Yi Jung and pissed off because the thudding music was only aggravating his already severe headache, and if he had to inhale one more stale cigarette, he was going to punch somebody out.

WooBin shoved his way through men twice his size maneuvering through the sea of glares and leather with ease until he reached the bar. The bartender was a mild looking boy. He was defiantly a boy, no older then seventeen; but a rough one at that. His muscles were lean but most certainly there, and his hair was dark and coarse, spiked uneven only further pursuing the young boy image. His once white tee was stained a murky shade of what might be considered gray, and his torn up jeans were littered with fine patched of grease. He gave off the scent of various liquors as most bartenders do, but this rugged boy was still a boy, and his scared expression exposed it well.

It might have been the scowl on his face, his expensively dangerous appearance, or maybe even the air of authority that WooBin seemed to carry wherever he went. But something about him scared the boy senseless and he was shaking before WooBin uttered a word.

"Who's the boss around here?" he said straightforward. There was no point playing word games since this kid was going to give him what he wanted straight off the bat.

"Don't know w-what you m-mean," He stammered realizing his mistake immediately. "The Boss is out."

WooBin cracked his knuckles for effect as he slowly placed his words. "I don't care how old you are. And I sure as hell don't want to know what a kid like you is doing in a place like this. I'm not here for you. But if you don't tell me what I want to know," he snapped his neck which delivered a chill down the boy's spine. "Then regardless of your age, you won't be saying anything to anyone for a nice long time. Got it?"

The kid fervently nodded in understanding. "Then I'll ask one more time." He whipped off his sunglasses unleashing his cold dagger ready eyes. "Where is the boss?"

The boy jumped and pointed to a door positioned off in the back corner of the bar with a shaking finger.

"Thanks kid," WooBin replaced his glasses while flipping a coin on the table, leaving the underage bartender weak on his knees. "For your trouble, I'm sure you have enough of them."

He didn't like scaring children, but he wasn't in the mood to be playing games with kids or anyone for that matter. So he walked to the door and barged right into the room without so much of a second thought. He knew what he would find or at least had a pretty damn good idea, and he was ready. After all, he had six of his men behind him, and he was always vicious when he fought drunk.

He saw blurring images flying past and was thinking about as straight a circle. His head throbbed harder then the bass of the music in the club he had just taken down, and his face was cut and bruised along with the rest of his exhausted body.

The fight had been quick but not quite painless. His opponents had been ready with knives and broken bottles, but it was obvious that the eight men plus their over weight boss were about as drunk as he was, maybe even more. They had probably drained those bottle weapons dry and then some on account of the crushed cans piled behind the black desk which took up most of the room.

And nine wasted men verses six competent ones and a drunken mafia prince was an easy call. If the knives hadn't been in the equation WooBin would've walked away with no more then a black eye. But even while drunk the thugs they fought were good with a blade and had managed to slice up WooBin and his men pretty well before the recognition that the guys were actually wasted could be registered. After that realization it was all a matter of some simple maneuvers and a punch or two to the face before they had all eight tied down and the boss of the origination handcuffed to his own desk. It was their job to take down, not to clean up, so they exited about as fast as they had come and now WooBin was behind the wheel of his sports car soaring at double the speed limit on a disoriented road with only the idea of aspirin and sleep on the mind. Not a care in the world to his beat up body. That would come later. Right now it was his own bed that he yearned for.

It wasn't until the impact came that the opposing headlight locked in or the screeching of tires registered past an after thought. And even though his head rebounded against the steering wheel knocking him unconscious, thinking back, he doubted that he would've even felt, much less noticed a difference had any of those actually not happened.

~~~Reviews are always appreciated~~~


	2. Chapter 2

~~Chapter 2~~

More lights. Only these weren't the dim lights of a dirty bar, or the strobes of a swinging club. They weren't the far off beams of distant headlights, or the flashing colors that only existed in his drunken mind. They were clear bright clean lights that shown down from a clear bright clean ceiling.

Blinking a few times in adjustment, WooBin understood almost immediately where he was. He was in a hospital, much like the ones that he detested the most. The ones where everything was pristine and white and patients were held like prisoners. But he would rather be a prisoner than be dead which he was pretty sure he should be.

"Thank god WooBin,"

WooBin turned his head to see JiHoo dressed in his white doctor's attire. His light hair was neat as usual framing his pale face, whose color only amplified the dark circles below his eyes which were now locked onto his. Eyes that were swimming with exhaustion and worry for what was most likely him.

"JiHoo," It was an acknowledgement, and nothing more. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to think. He just wanted what he had in the first place, sleep.

"Do you remember anything?" And apparently JiHoo wasn't going to let him get it.

"Not much," He halfheartedly admitted. He remembered quite a bit. He recalled all of the alcohol, the phone call, the drive to the bar, smothering cigarette smoke, a scared teenage boy, a fight, and the inside of a car that might have been his. But that's where the hazy memories abruptly met a standstill.

"You were hit WooBin. Well, you hit something. You were driving on the wrong side of the road and drove into the guardrail."

WooBin attempted a nod but found the simple feat unbearably painful. Instead he just lay in silence waiting for the rest that would inevitably come. "You made a pretty hard impact. Luckily the car that you cut off swerved. She was able to call for help fast enough and got you here in time. You're lucky WooBin. It seemed that you weren't in a really great condition before the crash. Those cuts and injuries weren't sustained from a car impact, at least not compared with the damages to your car."

WooBin hadn't even noticed all of the bandages and slings encasing his body in a procedure cocoon. He was too preoccupied with the tubes connected by what he knew was a needle. Funny how fighting off a gang of drug dealers with weapons didn't faze him, but a tiny needle made his breath hitch.

"WooBin?" JiHoo's gaze was penetrating and he avoided it by focusing instead on the design of the bed sheet, brushing it aside.

"JiHoo, not now, please." JiHoo understood. He knew WooBin's line of work enough to understand that he needed time. After all, no matter how strong you are, the human mind can only handle so much at one time.

He took it as a sign to leave. "I have to check on another patient. If you need anything at all, that red button will alert a nurse immediately."

"Thanks," His eyes were already closed; exhausted and ready to fall under like he had wanted to before any of the previous events had even occurred.

"I'll call Yi Jung. He wanted to be here, but he couldn't get out of an interview for his new exhibition,"

"Okay,"

"And I'll tell the girl to go home then. She's been in the waiting room for ten hours."

"What?" WooBin's eyes snapped back open. "Who's been waiting?"

"The girl that called the ambulance; she followed it here, and has been waiting for you to wake up. We informed her you would most likely make it, but she wouldn't leave."

"Why would…who is she?"

"We don't know. She's just been waiting. I've got to leave. I'll call Yi Jung, and inform her you're awake. Remember, if you need anything, the red button."

"Yeah," WooBin closed his eyes again. Sleep. He needed sleep. He needed to sleep and not think about anything, especially why someone would care enough about some drunken idiot swerving his car off the road to stay at a damned hospital for ten hours. Sleep. That's what he needed.

~~~Reviews are always appreciated~~~


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